


A Well Spun Tale

by BettyBourbon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabble, One Shot, Terrible friends, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, Varric to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyBourbon/pseuds/BettyBourbon
Summary: “When this is over,” Mathilda yelled as she ran past them. They all blinked at her, watching her make another turn around the room before she went on, pointing at them accusatorily. “I’m going to fucking murder—” She continued running and they waited again, Aveline audibly counting how long it was taking her to make a lap. “Each one of you!”____________________________________A one-shot describing the real story of Hawke's one on one battle against the Arishok.





	A Well Spun Tale

“You seem confused, Seeker,” Varric said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“The Champion killed the Arishok in single combat,” Cassandra replied, her voice wistful. “It just seems so…romantic.”

He had to stifle a snort. There was a bubble of pride in his chest threatening to burst. It was good to know this story still worked even though the truth was far from…romantic.

* * *

“Whose idea was this?” Varric grumbled. 

Fenris and Aveline both turned to glare at Isabela who was doing her best to hide in the shadow of a column. 

“I didn’t suggest a fight to the death! That was all the Arishok!” 

Fenris swore under his breath as he turned his gaze back to the ‘fight.’ Mathilda had stopped momentarily to shoot a bolt of ice in the Arishock’s direction, but as soon as he got up from his knees, he could see her mouth ‘oh shit’ and off she went again. 

“They’re literally just…running in circles,” Aveline murmured, sounding somewhat amused and somewhat worried. “How long do you think she can keep this up?”

No one answered as they watched the Arishok charge again. He dove straight into the doors. Mathilda hit him with a wall of flames but as he got back to his feet, she took off running once more. 

“I—hate—you—Isabela!” she shouted between pants, making a rude gesture with her free hand as she ran past them on another loop around the floor. 

“We should have brought snacks,” Fenris grumbled, leaning his arms on the railing and resting his cheek on his fist. 

“And maybe some ale,” Varric added, leaning on the railing next to Fenris. “This is gonna take all night.”

Half an hour went by. Then an hour. Eventually, they all sat on the stairs and Isabela materialized a deck of cards from Maker knew where. It took a few hands before Mathilda realized what they were doing, but when she ran past and saw them all deeply engaged in a game of Wicked Grace, she stopped abruptly, looking deeply offended. 

“I can’t believe you are actually—” 

Her pause gave the Arishok enough time to knock her to the ground. 

“Oooh,” Varric winced as he watched her scramble back to her feet. “Alright there, boss?”

“Stay focused, Hawke!” Aveline yelled. “I have to report back by sunrise!”

“Do you need a stamina potion?” Fenris asked, raising an eyebrow at her when she ran past them next. 

“Fuck off!” was her only response. “All of you!”

They shrugged and returned to their game, but it only kept their attention for a half hour more before they returned to watching Mathilda with mild impatience. Aveline commenced sharpening her sword as Varric polished Bianca. Isabela began braiding and rebraiding her hair, but all Fenris could do was rest his arms on his knees and let out the occasional sigh. 

“What tale will you spin about this epic battle, Varric?” Fenris asked. 

“I’m working on it,” Varric replied, his face thoughtful as he occasionally glanced up from his crossbow to check Mathilda’s progress. “Maker knows we can’t let it get out Hawke defeated the Arishock by spending three hours running in circles and cussing under her breath.”

“When this is over,” Mathilda yelled as she ran past them. They all blinked at her, watching her make another turn around the room before she went on, pointing at them accusatorily. “I’m going to fucking murder—” She continued running and they waited again, Aveline audibly counting how long it was taking her to make a lap. “Each one of you!”

“Might I suggest replacing ‘under her breath’ with loudly yelling death threats,” Fenris recommended. 

“I hate you all!” she said again as she flew past.

* * *

“Not a word,” Mathilda growled as she descended the stairs of her mansion in a fresh set of robes. 

Fenris was standing at the bottom, his arms crossed over his chest and a sardonic smirk tugging at his lips. 

“What? I said nothing.” 

“Wipe that grin off your face,” she spat at him as she stomped past him to the door. 

If Mathilda wasn’t in such need of a drink, she would have locked herself up in her room for the next week to avoid the snickers and smirks of her friends. She’d only been willing to go with Varric’s suggestion of a celebratory drink at the Hanged Man once she’d left her sweaty and blood-stained robes in a heap on her floor. 

“I can already hear the laughter in your voice, Fenris. Not. A. Word.”

They walked in silence the entire way to Low Town, Fenris hanging back a few feet as she huffed all the way to the Hanged Man. 

She was plotting her revenge against them all as she stormed through the streets, a look of such annoyance on her set face that passersby did not dare to yell out a greeting. When she finally slammed open the door to the tavern, her eyes were alighted with fury as she scanned the crowd for Varric and Isabela. 

The entire bar fell silent, making Mathilda’s teeth grit as she prepared herself for the onslaught of laughter and jeering. Instead, however, she was greeted with a loud whoop of cheering and applause. 

“Well done, Hawke!” Merrill said as she stood on her table, clapping with the rest of the crowd. 

“Are you alright?” Anders asked worriedly, suddenly at her side. 

Sebastian clapped a hand onto her shoulder, smiling at her brightly. “You’re the hero of the hour, my friend! Congratulations!”

Her face immediately changed from one of anger to one of confusion. She looked from Varric to Fenris, her eyebrows raised in amazement. 

“I believe you owe the dwarf a round,” Fenris murmured in her ear. He smirked at her over his shoulder as he left her to her admirers.

* * *

As the crowd began winding down, Mathilda sought out Varric and took a heavy seat beside him. His quill was moving furiously and he did not bother to glance up at her. 

“Enjoying your new found hero status, Hawke?” he asked lightly as he reached for another piece of parchment. 

“Varric,” she said with a sigh of exasperation. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Don’t mention it, kid.”


End file.
